Cowboy Town (5 page)

He stares at me stunned.  The way he’s looking one would think that he’d never been turned down using that line.  That wouldn’t surprise me.  Hotty Two answers for him, because clearly rejection robs Hotty One of speech.

“Two JD & cokes please, honey.”  I watch out of the corner of my eye as Hotty One’s gaze snaps to his brother when he calls me honey.  I see his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow before I set about mixing their drinks.

“Here you go,” I place the drinks on the bar.  Hotty One grabs my wrist and I jerk back when I feel a tingling sensation course up my arm – like the electric shock you used to get as a kid when you’d jump on the trampoline and then touch your friend. 
Like that
but better.  Longer.  Not a sharp zap, but a steady current.

“What’s your name, darlin’,” he says softly, still holding my wrist.  I want to snatch it out of his hand.  I want to bitch slap him across the face. I want to, but I don’t.  Before I can answer I hear a woman shrieking.

“What the fuck is this? 
What the fuck is this?
”  I turn my attention to the woman standing beside Hotty One.  Hands on hips, eyes narrowed into little slits – gaze on my hand in Hotty One’s, lips puckered into a very unattractive pout.

“Answer me, Jackson!” She demands on a foot stomp.  I resist the urge to giggle.  Seriously, a foot stomp?  She’s grown woman, not a two year old having a temper tantrum.

“Calm ya farm, Danni. Jeez,” Hotty One, now known as Jackson, mutters, shaking his head.

She huffs and I take the opportunity to snatch my hand out of his.  He gives me a quizzical look, which makes me frown, then turns his attention back to
Danni
when she slaps him across the chest.

“You’re making me a look like a
fool.
  I bet you’ve never kept your dick in your pants.  Always out on the prowl.  I’m right aren’t I?”  Her voice which had started out at a normal speaking volume has increased by a few decibels until she’s full on shouting at the end and poking him in the chest.

“Pull your fucking head in, woman,” he clips on a growl.  She doesn’t heed the warning in his tone – too caught up her snit, so she tries a different tactic.

“Far out Jackson, I’m right here.  Do you have to flirt with other women in front of me?  Like, seriously,” she whines.  That’s enough for me.  I leave them and make my way to the other end of the bar and serve customers.  Ten minutes later when I sneak a look up to where Jackson was sitting, he’s not there.  Neither is Danni.  Only Hotty Two remains talking with the boys.

It’s about half an hour later that I hear the introductory strains of
Give Me Love
by Ed Sheeran begin to echo through the bar.  The room silences and everyone turns to watch the man with guitar in the corner as he starts to sing.

Give me love like her,
'cause lately I've been waking up alone,
Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt,
Told you I'd let them go,
And that I'll fight my corner,
Maybe tonight I'll call ya,
After my blood turns into alcohol,
No, I just wanna hold ya.

I watch as he sings, his eyes planted firmly across the room.  I follow his gaze and my eyes land on a pretty red head.  Her mouth agape, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.  Their gazes never waver.  Towards the end of the song, my jaw hits the floor when I spot Bastiaan edging closer to the singer.  He takes the microphone from the man and takes over the singing.  In a deep baritone voice, Bastiaan begins to sing;

M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover,
M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover,
M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover,
M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover.

As he’s singing, the man walks toward his red head and drops down to one knee, pulling a ring from his top pocket he declares his love to her and asks her to be his wife.  She screams and shouts “YES!” then proceeds to jump and down, giggling and yelling in between kissing the man.  The patrons cheer and clap and I look over to Doreen who gives me a big smile.  I smile back at her and resume serving.  A wedding proposal definitely maketh the man thirstier!

“Thanks for your help tonight, luv.  I really appreciate it,” Doreen tells me as I wipe the bar clean after everyone has left for closing.

“Not a problem,”

“Figure you’ll be wanting a job, you plan on staying here,”

I turn and look over at her.  “Yeah,” I reply.

“Got one here if you want it,” she states.

“I want it.” I don’t hesitate.

“Good.  I’ll put you on the roster.  Now if you go on down to the kitchen, there’s some dinner in the oven for you.  Take it out to your room if you want, or eat it in the dining room.  Here, take a beer with you,” she tosses me a bottle of beer, which I catch, and then I make my down to the kitchen.  Opening the oven I find a chicken schnitzel with chips and gravy waiting for me.  I grab the oven mitt and remove the plate, setting it on a tray.  I add a knife and fork set that’s been wrapped in a napkin and then make my way out to my cabin to eat.

As I eat my food, I can’t stop thinking about Jackson.  It’s making me crazy.  First I think about him.  Then I want to slap myself for thinking about him.  Then I think about him again.  It’s an endless cycle and I have no clue how to stop it.  I don’t even know why he’s having this effect on me.  I unconsciously rub my wrist where he held it, which then makes me think of the current of electricity that I felt. 
What was that?  Did he feel it too?  Am I going crazy?
  I must have been imagining it.  Either that, or he didn’t feel it – and what in the hell was the go with that
Danni
chick?  My mother told me many times that when it came to men and getting their attention or getting your point across, the right way to do it is quietly, succinctly and not in public.  She told me a man will not appreciate or be receptive to, a woman who comes in screaming and yahooing (her words) and who publicly belittles him.  While I have never been in a situation to test my mum’s theory out (Matt and I never had one argument in our three years together), I’m thinking I’d much rather have a rip-roarin’ at home, in private, than to have a foot stomping, hissy fit tantrum in front of a bar full of people.  But that’s just me.

Sighing, I place my empty plate on the bedside table, kick of my boots, remove my belt and face plant on the bed. Two seconds later, I’m out.

The next day I go down to the bar half an hour before open to see if Doreen needs a hand with anything.

“G’day, Luv.  Here’s your roster for the next fortnight.  I made it up this morning,” she greets, handing me a piece of paper.  I have a quick look over it and see there’s a mixture of day and night shifts.

“Cool, thanks.  Do you need me to do anything now?”

“No, luv, you work tonight.  The cleaners have already been through this morning and I’ll do the day shift.  You work with Bear tonight, I’ll be here for a little bit then I got stuff to do.”

“Okay, well I’ll see you at five.”  I head off wondering what to do for the rest of the day.  I decide I’m going to explore.  It’s really warming up today and must be at least thirty degrees already so I head back upstairs and pack a bag with a towel, sunscreen and hat.  Then I change into my bikini and put my clothes back over the top.  A sunbake and maybe a swim will be the perfect way to take advantage of the weather.  I take a road out of town and follow the signs I’d seen on my arrival to Buchaneer’s Billabong.  The signs had pictures on them indicating it was safe to swim in them but I wasn’t naïve enough to still not be a little worried about the threat of crocodiles, no matter what the signs said.

I found a spot, pulled in and got out to survey the area.  No crocs out sunbaking – bonus!  The billabong was surrounded by big shady trees and the water was crystal clear.  There were a few cars parked around the large pool of water, some people were swimming, others were lying out in the sun.  I picked a spot, spread out my towel and sat down.  I smothered myself in SPF and laid back, closing my eyes against the glare of the midday sun.

“What the fuck?” My eyes snap open and I wipe the water droplets from my face.  I must have fallen asleep.  My eyes focus and I spot Jackson standing over me blocking out the sun.  His eyes are twinkling and he’s got his fully-fledged, bright white, straight-toothed smile directed right on me.  I feel my nipples pucker and my belly clench. 
Traitorous body.
  I can feel the sexual tension radiating between us but I refuse to acknowledge it.  Jackson is exactly the type of guy I
don’t
need. That’s the funny thing about life – you always want what you can’t have.  I’m not sure why this is but it sucks!  Have you ever heard the saying “curiosity killed the cat?”  Well, one look at Jackson and I know I’m going to get dead.  Burned.  I can’t help but imagine if those lips feel as soft and plump as they look.  I wonder what it would be like to run my hands up and down his body.  If his ass is as firm and rounded as his jeans lead you to believe. 

GAH!!

This has got to fucking stop. 

“So, you never got around to tellin’ me your name last night, darlin’.”  His voice is a mixture of rough and smooth with a hint of country twang and drawl.  Even his voice is sexy.  I want to strangle the powers that be that led me here.  No, actually, I just want to strangle
Jackson
.

“You don’t need to know my name.  The only name you need to know is that of your girlfriend.  You don’t need to know anything about me, so run along,” I flick my wrist in the direction of the dirt road.

“Wrong, darlin’.  I wanna know everything about you.  And I’m a man who sees what he wants and goes after it.  Never wanted somethin’ and not got it – so you can mark my words when I say that by the end of this I’m gonna know your name, and everything else there is to know about you.  Be seeing ya, darlin’.”  He leans down and glides his thumb down my cheek before standing and walking over to a white Ute.    I close my eyes and try to ignore the heat and tingly feeling that is occupying my cheek where he touched me.

So you can mark my words when I say that by the end of this I’m gonna know your name, and everything else there is to know about you.
 

Fuck, fuck, fuckity,
fuck!
  I need a plan.  A course of action.  A modus operandi.  Actually, I don’t know what that last bit means but it sounds the part. 

Never wanted somethin’ and not got.
  Ha!  Of course he’s never wanted something and not got it.  He’s the male version of a slut – what do people call them these days?  Jiggalo’s?  Man-whore’s?  Yeah, that’s what he is – a man-whore.  I kind of feel a little bit sorry for his girlfriend, but I also kind of feel like she should get some balls and stand up to him, tell him to man up or fuck off.

On that note I decided that I was going to “man up.”  Actually, what I meant was I was going to ignore Jackson who-ever-he-was until he got the hint that I didn’t want one iota of him.  Chances are I wouldn’t be seeing him again until the following weekend.  That’s what most people did, right?  You have one or two nights a week out and then if you feel like a drink any other time, well, you have it at home.  This meant that the possibility of me seeing Jackson who-ever-he-was for at least the next five days was slim to none.  While I was focusing on ignoring him, I was also going to ignore the pang of disappointment that I felt when I thought I wouldn’t be seeing him again all week.  Instead, I thought about going for a swim.  Then I thought about crocodiles and the likelihood of them being in this billabong.  Then I thought about the people who were already in the hole swimming and how all of them were alive and not one of them seemed to be worried because their friend had just been dragged under in a death roll by a ten foot monster.  I thought then, that it was probably pretty safe for me to swim. 

I stood and shimmied out of cutoff jeans shorts and pulled my singlet top over my head.  I placed them both in a pile on my towel and picked my bikini bottoms out of my ass.  Then I walked over to the edge of the water, far away from the other swimmers so as I wasn’t intruding on their day but close enough so that if in the unlikely event I was wrestled in the water by a ten foot croc, they’d see it and could either help me out or raise the alarm.  With that in mind I tentatively dipped a toe in the water. 
Warm.
  With the water being the perfect temperature, there was no need to ease myself, so I dived right in.  I was treading water and taking in my surroundings, enjoying the beauty of it, and even though the other people were making noise and splashing about, I was still savoring the tranquility and peace that shrouded me when I was suddenly gripped on my ankle and dragged under water.  My shriek was muffled because as it was coming out of my mouth, my mouth was going under water.  I lashed out; kicking at what I was certain was a croc.  I connected a few solid whacks before it released me and I shot towards the surface and started swimming in the opposite direction as fast I could at the same time I started yelling incoherent words.  “Calm ya farm, Ace,” I heard laughed from behind me as two solid arms wrapped around my waist.